A Toast

The year is drawing to a close
And most are happy, I suppose
To wipe the slate and start anew
Since what has passed we can’t undo.

To me, despite the vows to change
And thus our problems rearrange,
Life carries on and few can claim
That things do not remain the same.

So here’s a toast to those who cheer
The advent of a brand-new year.
May this one grant what’s in your heart.
If it does not, don’t fall apart.

'Round the Corner

As the new year rounds the corner
We're confronted with the fact
That it might be filled with many things
The current year has lacked.

There will be more joy or sorrow
(Circumstances will decide)
But whichever way it falls, we're all
Seat-buckled for the ride.

We've no choice now but to face it,
Though with welcome or with dread,
And the coming months will show us
Where exactly we've been led.

Giant Crossword

A giant crossword from The Times
Was in a special section
So puzzle lovers had a chance
At brain cell introspection.

I’ve worked for hours, on and off,
To get the thing completed.
The size is not enough to let
A wordsmith feel defeated.

To finish such a challenge,
Time and patience are required.
It’s fortunate for me I’ve gotten
Both since I retired!

Pastrami on Rye

Went to a deli
And piled way up high
Was the sandwich I ordered –
Pastrami on rye.

I slathered on mustard
And savored each bite
Along with a pickle,
The sour just right.

If you’re feeling hungry
I’d urge you to try
(In a real New York deli)
Pastrami on rye.

Legalese

There once was a clumsy attorney
Who wanted to go on a journey
     But lacking some grace
     He fell on his face
And soon was stretched out on a gurney.

He’d wanted to taste the exotic
But work made his life so chaotic
     That the thrills he did seek
     Like conversing in Greek
Were replaced by an antibiotic.

When he healed he went back by degrees
For he missed his gargantuan fees
     But the lesson he learned
     Was when trips are concerned
He should stay home and speak legalese!

Calendars and Cards

Today I bought my calendars
And boxes full of cards
To send next year conveying
My best holiday regards.

For after Christmas, things like these
Are sold at half the price,
A little gimmick stores employ
To clear their merchandise.

It’s become, to me, tradition
For as long as I remember,
I’ve bought calendars and cards
The 26^th day of December.

Christmas Birthday

If your birthday’s on Christmas, it must be a drag,
For snow may be piled up in drifts
But most likely, the reason your spirits will sag’s
When you realize you’ve lost out on gifts.

For those purchasing presents will figure just one
Should suffice, though that just isn’t true
And when Santa discovers your birthday stash there
He might leave with no goodies for you.

So for those with a birthday on 12/25,
Here’s a bit of unasked-for advice:
Have your party the week that precedes the big day
And prepare to write thank-you cards twice!

Confluence

A rare confluence of events
Is happening tonight
To fill both Jews and Christians
With a feeling of delight.

At sunset Chanukah begins;
Two candles thus will glow,
While Christmas brings excitement,
Knowing Santa Claus will show.

All celebrants will gather
With their kith and kin to feast.
There'll be gossip, gifts and goodies,
Greedy waistlines thus increased.

So to all who'll spend this evening
With the dreidel or the tree,
Here's a happy merry greeting
Flowing straight to you from me.

By the Wayside

Near the garbage, I did see
A sad, discarded Christmas tree
Wrapped up in a plastic bag,
A sight to make the spirits sag.

With Christmas looming, it seems rash
To toss a tree out with the trash.
I wondered 'bout the reasons why
That tree was ditched, with no goodbye.

Perhaps it brought some bugs inside
Or else the owner up and died.
It's possible, with needles falling,
A fake version found its calling.

Maybe two folks bought a tree
Where one could serve the family
Or someone, in a Scrooge-like snit
Just chucked it, saying "This is it!"

Though this is not my holiday,
It saddened me in some small way,
But not enough to take it home;
Instead, it did inspire this poem.

With Sugar on Top

The candles sometimes drop their flames;
The lions lose their tails.
The stars come out all crooked;
Some ineptitude prevails.

The wine jugs might have missing tops;
The dreidels look all right.
The flaws won’t matter, hopefully,
When loved ones take a bite.

For Chanukah’s the time when I
Roll out that dough and bake,
My grandma’s cookie cutters
And her recipe at stake.

Vaccines

I took my first pneumonia shot
And now my arm hurts – not a lot
But just enough to let me know
That through my veins vaccine does flow.

Before this year, I’ve blown it off
But now, at least, if I should cough
I’ll chalk it up to just a cold
And panic, thus, will be controlled.

I’ll wait a week or two until
The redness leaves and then I will
Prepare again for pain and tingles
When I get the shot for shingles!

Giraffes

To see one lope across a field’s
An unexpected gift.
The leaves they munch most creatures
Couldn’t reach without a lift.

Their graceful necks and spindly legs
Are always a surprise,
While on their pelts their patterns form
A banquet for our eyes.

And yet today I read that they
Are sadly dying out,
Succumbing to the poachers
Who are hard to stop, no doubt.

We’d all be at a loss without
Giraffes upon the earth.
It blows my mind that greed decides
What certain things are worth.

In Winter's Grip

The ground is dusted white with snow
Reminding us of what we know –
That winter’s here (or just about),
The snow removing any doubt.

The temperature may rise or dip
But we’ll remain in winter’s grip
Until beneath the frozen mud,
The crocuses burst forth and bud.

We cannot battle Nature’s plan
So we should all do what we can
To take the next three months in stride
And when it’s brutal, stay inside.

To Write of Fog

To write of fog
Within one's blog
Lets everybody see,
With time to log
(Or read or jog),
You have some moments free.

That time is sweet
But can't compete
With those who have a need
To send a Tweet
Each bite they eat.
That's too much time, indeed.

Second Avenue Subway

They’re building a subway
(They call it the Q)
To run underneath
Second Avenue.

It’s nearing completion
(But way overdue).
They’re hoping by New Year’s
To have its debut.

Construction’s so noisy
(If you only knew!)
That the neighborhood feels
It’s been getting the screw.

But now they’re on deadline
(With much ballyhoo)
And the streets are so tight
You can hardly pass through.

If it ever gets finished
(Despite the huge crew)
We’ll be shocked ‘cause it seems
Like a classic snafu.

When the new year begins
(And there’s still no review)
All New Yorkers will sigh,
Unsurprised, as on cue.

Da Da Da DA!

Bigger than the Beatles,
More popular than Bruce;
If you don’t recognize these notes,
Man, you must be obtuse.

The musical equivalent
Of Hamlet’s famous speech,
(“To be or not to be,” I mean)
It’s something they still teach.

So happy birthday Beethoven,
The genius or the myth
And on your 246^th,
Let’s thank you for the Fifth!

First Brave Soul

Music makes a party, but
You need that first brave soul
To get up and hit the dance floor
And begin to rock and roll.

Because once that ice is broken,
Each observer on a seat
Will, without much hesitation,
Start to boogie to the beat.

Then what fun it is to watch them,
(Even more to join right in)
But all dancers owe a debt to
That brave soul who did begin.

Indoor Tent

Inside the little indoor tent,
H and H and Nana went
To sit there cozy, warm and snug;
It felt like an extended hug.

A private world we did create
With nothing there to aggravate –
My grandkids (ages 1 and 3)
And happy (but exhausted) me.

Stripes

I love a shirt with stripes across
And own more than a few.
The colors vary and the styles 
Though stripiness shines through.

If I had gone to prison
When the garb was black and white,
I would've hated lock-up
But the uniforms? All right!

An Even Lower Low

Airlines charge for luggage now
Although that once was free.
They make a mint demanding
That all flyers pay a fee.

They also charge for food and drink
And “extra” legroom, too.
We grouse and grumble but there’s not
A lot that we can do.

And now I hear they’re sinking
To an even lower low.
There’ll be a cost for bins that hold
The smaller things we stow.

United’s at the forefront
Of this latest air offense,
To build their coffers quickly
At the passengers’ expense.

I just signed a petition
That will underscore this view.
In the meantime, when I’m flying,
I’ll stay loyal to JetBlue.*

*which still doesn’t charge for
 luggage and gives free snacks, too

Highway Hunter

When winter trees are bare of leaves,
Each branch is clearly seen,
No longer hidden by the summer
Blanketing of green.

And that is why I sometimes see,
Resplendently arrayed,
A hawk or falcon on a limb,
Exposed but not afraid.

Most patiently it scopes things out
And glances all around,
In hopes of spying something scurry
There upon the ground.

I never see it swooping down,
Abandoning its perch,
But knowing what’s to come, I’d rather
Be left in the lurch.

Two Rhinos

Two rhinos butted horns today
While I was there observing,
Their habitat so small for that,
For me it was unnerving.

Their bodies still as statues
They were rooted to the ground,
Though their heads they tapped together
Softly, making not a sound.

How far from home these creatures were,
With nothing else to do
But stand face to face behind the walls
Within an urban zoo.

As much as I love visiting,
I feel a bit complicit
Watching those whose capture from the wild
Seems somehow quite illicit.

The Wind

The wind is wreaking havoc
With the branches and the leaves.
I wonder what will next come out
That's hiding up its sleeves.

The table cover on the porch,
Supposedly secured,
Is flapping like a wounded bird
But still here, rest assured.

The chairs, once stacked so nicely,
Have just toppled on their backs,
Quite unlike their normal posture,
Like they're trying to relax.

I am watching from the window
As the bushes dance and sway.
Think I'll stay inside a while
Or I might get blown away!

The Lows

Without the lows,
There’d be no highs.
Without hellos,
No sad goodbyes.

Without disease,
No joy in health.
With hunger’s pleas,
A quest for wealth.

Without a war,
There’d be no peace.
What comes before
Inspires release.

We cannot rise
From down below
To claim a prize
We did not know.

In Nashville

In Nashville, every bar is filled
With music and with booze.
The patrons fill the tip jars
Of whichever bands they choose.

The past four days we joined them,
Hearing songs and drinking beer,
But now we’re back at home
In our familiar atmosphere.

So tonight on Nashville’s Broadway,
As the fans prolong their sips,
Singers strum guitars and bang on drums
While others give them tips.

The Hermitage

Visited The Hermitage;
(That's Andrew Jackson's home).
My husband looks for history
Wherever we do roam.

We toured the house and grounds
And what we learned was surely plenty;
But best of all, a photo op
With my face on the 20!

Music City

In the middle of the day,
When I used to be at work,
I am sitting in a bar
Filled with music - what a perk!

With an IPA to sip
And a singer at the mike
And my husband by my side -
There is nothing not to like.

Music City's* what it's called;
It's a title apropos
And I'm feeling very good
That I've had the chance to go.

*Nashville, Tennessee

The Country Music Hall of Fame

A country music fan is not
A title I would claim
And yet today I visited
Its well-known Hall of Fame.

For here I am in Nashville,
In the south and far from home,
But I believe in following
That adage, "When in Rome..."

Surprisingly, I much enjoyed
The various displays.
The folks that made it happen sure
Deserve a lot of praise.

Though lots of boots, guitars and hats
Belonged to I don't know,
Still, I loved this fine museum
And think everyone should go!

Traveling

Traveling can be a pain,
Particularly on a plane.
You plan, you pack, you park, you wait
Until you find the proper gate.

You clutch ID and boarding pass
Then zigzag through the lines en masse,
Removing coats and belts and shoes
And pray you're not the one they choose...

A "random" check - you're patted down
By someone surly, with a frown
That's meant to let you know she's pissed
'Cause you might be a terrorist.

You make it through and grab your stuff
And find a seat. There aren't enough
So some folks stand 'til they announce
The boarding call; all flyers pounce.

The goal's to make it so your case
Will squeeze into a vacant space
And then you sit, your legs all squished -
Not quite as stress-free as you'd wished.

And yet - some time away awaits,
Well-worth whatever aggravates.
A change of scene, some treats to find
And all the humdrum left behind.

This little break is like a gift;
Your spirits get a needed lift.
The days will pass, the time will fly
And soon again, you'll surf the sky.

Venting

I once was young
And now I'm not.
That knowledge gets
To me a lot.

My hair is thin,
My skin is lined
And if you ask,
Of course I mind!

My knee hurts when
I walk the stairs.
Complaining's useless - 
No one cares.

Forgive my mood - 
It's evident
That there are times
One needs to vent.

To a Whistle

Your sound flew through the air,
A blaring auditory missile,
Though no one that I noticed
Seemed to cringe or even bristle.

The driver of the bus, however,
Waited just a bissel,*
Enough to let on board the man
Inspiring this epistle.

*little bit in Yiddish